


Seeking

by Kalira



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dragon Uchiha Madara, Dragons, Feral Behavior, M/M, MadaTobi Week 2019, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-09 20:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20123698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Something has gone very wrong when a raging - or mournful? - dragon appears almost at the gates of the Senju stronghold. Hashirama may not understand justwhathas gone wrong, however. . .





	Seeking

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [MadaTobi Week](https://madatobiweek.tumblr.com/post/182718063236), Day 6: Feral
> 
> I had originally intended a more traditional feral trope plotline, but then this sprang up and ran off with my muse, so please enjoy this fantasy AU and feral dragon!Madara. . .

“Hashirama-sama!”

Hashirama startled up from where he had become . . . _distracted_ from his paperwork, flicking his fingers and freeing them gently from the flowering vine he had been playing with. “Yes?” he moved towards the door and a nervous-looking runner standing there.

“There’s- There is a disturbance, Hashirama-sama.” the runner said, fidgeting, his hair fluffing up with ticklish breezes the way that Itama’s had used to as his fingers twitched.

“A disturbance?” Hashirama asked, concerned. He reached out to the trees surrounding the compound, encouraging their answer, but they thought slowly.

“A- a dragon, Hashirama-sama.”

Hashirama froze. “A dragon.” he repeated faintly, thinking of his younger brothers, thinking of the _war_ his father had raged against draconic infractions in their lands, thinking- “_Here?_” he demanded.

“Just- Just outside the gates, Hashirama-sama.”

Hashirama bolted for the gates, an impression of searing heat and something large and loud finally filtering through from his connection with the forest as he reached out further. He didn’t need more from the trees, though. It was easy, once he was out the gates, to make his way to the ‘disturbance’ - there was a cacophony of ringing yowls and snarling roars that had been audible halfway across the compound.

Hashirama braced himself, feeling the power of the forest rise up in his veins, and moved towards the sounds. Dragons had killed one brother and stolen another, he refused to let his people be harmed any further by them.

His father’s war may have been aggressive and begun as a one-sided hatred, and Hashirama would not repeat it . . . but neither would he stand back to allow the dragons free rein of their lands, or to hunt their people.

Hashirama paused as he reached the dragon. The creature was not large, for a dragon - though significantly larger than an ox - all gleaming obsidian scales and a thick crest of spiky fur down his spine to the tuft on his lashing tail. He tilted his head and roared again, spitting out a ball of flame that seared into the thick trunks of several trees, leaving charred patterns behind. Then he rolled, horns digging deep into the earth, and lashed out with his front talons, claws flinging up more earth and shredded roots.

Blazing red eyes found Hashirama’s and he stiffened, setting his jaw.

He raised his hands as the dragon’s talons settled beneath him again and he scratched deep into a rocky patch of earth. Hashirama’s eyes widened as the silvery claws dug right into the rock without the slightest apparent difficulty.

Hashirama’s power gathered and the dragon opened his mouth and _roared_, sparks rolling over tongue and fangs. He took a step back but lashed out with a spell as he moved, flinching as it impacted shimmering scales and all but slid off without any effect. The trees creaked and reached, and more flames scorched their branches, the nose-searing scent of rapidly-charcoaling wood making Hashirama cringe.

The dragon let out a loud, wavering screech, swiping one talon at a nearby stand of young, but strong, trees, uprooting several and breaking - slashing - the others in two at little more than waist height. Hashirama shaped his magic and drew on it hard, moving fast, but couldn’t get _close_ to the dragon, lashing out and roaring, breathing fire and despite their battle continuing to roll on the ground and thrash, tossing his head, shredding the earth.

Hashirama eyed the creature warily as he arched and uncoiled there, baring the underside of his neck all along its sinuous length. Hashirama moved closer, calling wood and branches up to his hands and-

The dragon’s nearer eye snapped to him and Hashirama didn’t waste time, immediately throwing himself into a retreat. Even at that he didn’t escape the blast of flame from the toothy maw, which hit him hard enough to send him tumbling down and across the earth.

Flames licked up Hashirama’s pants, not _quite_ searing his skin, and he twisted, struggling to regain enough control of his movements after being _rattled_ so badly to put himself out.

Water poured over him out of nowhere, soaking him in an instant, all but wrapping around him, and then drawing away almost as quickly as it had come. It left him dry and singed but no longer on fire. Hashirama looked around wildly and found his brother approaching - and then passing him - at an easy, confident pace, not even wearing battle gear or carrying a weapon.

“Otouto-! No! You’ll be burned! Hurt!” Hashirama cried, distressed and shocked as Tobirama strode right up towards the great black shape. A huff and a fierce tongue of flame casually spat across the grass left a burnt swathe as it licked towards Tobirama.

He didn’t hesitate, of course, even so, only dodged the fire and moved on. Hashirama whined and hauled himself up to dive after his precious little brother before he could get hurt - mangled, _killed_.

“_Excuse_ you.” Tobirama said sharply, in the same tone he used on his students, and Touka. “_Madara_, come now.” he scolded, and Hashirama froze, stumbling sideways as he lost his balance. Madara? _Madara?_

Tobirama’s _lover_ Madara?

The dragon lowered his head and stretched out his neck, nudging his muzzle into Tobirama’s stomach, then looping his neck around Tobirama’s waist with a mournful cry.

Tobirama raised his hands, curled fingers nestling alongside pointed ears, rubbing and scratching, sliding down around fiery eyes and cupping the sharp jaw on one side, pressing up beneath it. The dragon nestled even closer, eyes half-closed, crooning - a sound loud enough it made the leaves on the toppled trees lying near Hashirama quiver.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Tobirama asked, burying his hand in the thick crest and yanking at a handful of fur. Hashirama’s heart leapt into his throat, but the dragon - _Madara?_ \- only . . . _fidgeted_, shifting his talons and making himself small. He pressed snug against Tobirama a little more firmly, keening and snuggling his head into Tobirama’s chest and arms.

Folding his arms, Tobirama cuddled his head and neck closer, head tilting as he stroked the dragon’s neck with one hand. Hashirama’s eyes widened further as a deep, rumbling, throbbing sound filled the smouldering, half-shredded clearing. Tobirama smiled and bent, pressing a kiss to the dragon’s brow.

“Honestly, Madara. . .” Tobirama said, just barely loud enough for Hashirama to hear, then allowed himself to be tugged down by one clingy talon wrapping around his hip. He leaned against the dragon as he sank to the ground, and Madara curled around him in turn, head nestled in his lap, tufted tail wound about his lower legs. “Really, what has gotten into you?”

Madara only continued to . . . _purr_?

Hashirama wanted to know what had gotten into _Tobirama_, who had certainly never mentioned _this_ \- a fire creature, yes, but he had never named _what_ his lover was and Hashirama had hardly thought it an issue, but _this_. . .

Tobirama had never named Madara a _dragon_ and Hashirama shook with fear and fury to see the creature so close around his one remaining brother.

* * *

Madara stretched sleepily, sighing. The tip of his tail flicked. He reminded himself he would get to see his mate _soon_, but he couldn’t go to Tobirama today.

The little pulse in his chest wavered with the distress of the delay. It was courting season, and _having_ a mate already, a chosen who had chosen in return, did not mean that it affected Madara any less - he wanted to be with his beloved, and to bring him gifts, and provide for him. To be offered company and care in return.

Wanted to coil himself around Tobirama and nestle close, hide his mate in his body and his wings, wanted to be caressed and kissed and share pleasure.

Madara huffed, shimmying his body to settle a little lower in his place on the rocky promontory.

Perhaps someday, he thought lazily, hopeful, his mate would allow Madara to build him a proper hoard. He accepted gifts, sometimes, and he always revelled in caresses and affection, but Madara _wanted_ to provide for him, to display how much he adored his chosen. To lavish his beloved mate with anything he could desire.

A spell that passed uncomfortably close to Madara’s wings made his eyes snap open even as he let out a warning roar. Soft, for now. He rose up a bit, arching his wings but keeping them close, then had to dodge as one young _idiot_ threw another spell backed by a burst of fire, careless with his aim.

Madara glared at both combatants as they flew, dodging each other and flinging careless flames and magics, then at the big male they were clearly displaying for, watching with his ears pricked and his head up, enjoying the attention. Madara growled and spat flame of his own at the spiralling spell passing by his shoulder before beginning to spread his wings, intending to simply get out of the area, if they were going to be so foolish and _loud_.

Another messy spray of fire passed by his head and Madara roared in irritation, snapping his wings pointedly wide. One of the combatants snarled back and the other flew a little further away, even as he gathered magic in his talons to fling at his opponent.

Madara launched into the air, tail lashing. He was fond of this spot, but not fond enough to put up with this nonsense, and he wasn’t going to fight them for it.

Magic lashed against his side as he dodged, deflected mostly by his scales and his own inner magic. It threw him off balance, however, and another spell hit the side of his neck and face, and-

The world whirled and Madara roared, lashing out with flame and talons against the sparking, uncomfortable feeling before everything went black.

“Madara?”

“Madara?”

“This is _your_ fault!”

“Where were you _aiming_?”

“Where were you _flying_?”

Madara snarled in displeasure at the cacophony of voices around him, lashing out with one talon and coiling himself up tighter as he looked around. There were several dragons gathered close around him, but the figure the little driving pulse in his chest insisted should be present was _not_.

Madara drooped, yowling mournfully for his mate, in hopes Tobirama was nearby.

“Ah, Madara?”

“Are you all right?”

Madara bared his fangs snappishly at the dragon poking right up into his face, and he recoiled satisfyingly. Madara straightened and drew himself up, wings arching and tail lashing as he breathed in, senses seeking his mate.

It was easy enough to find the traces and feel of him . . . but he was far from Madara.

Madara grumbled unhappily, then lashed his tail again and swiped slowly - to warn, not to attack - around himself. Making room, as the others drew back.

“What happened?”

“What were you even trying to _do_?”

Madara ignored the steadily louder chatter fading beneath him as he took to the air, head throbbing and body a little sore. The little pulse in his chest sang that he needed his mate and the traces of Tobirama he could find called him onwards.

Madara flew, content to follow that call.

Unfortunately as he drew closer, it grew more difficult to track his mate, and he called out in distress as he circled lower and eventually landed, threading amongst thick, tall trees. Tobirama’s scent and power were rich all around him but Tobirama _wasn’t there_.

Madara keened and called out, hoping it would bring Tobirama to him. He had come this far, and he needed his mate to be with him, the little pulse in his chest crying out that he must find his mate and touch and court and share.

He dug his claws into the earth and unleashed his frustration in a searing wave of fire. He tilted his head up and opened his jaws wide, tail curling and swishing, waiting hopefully for his mate and growing more distressed as he failed to appear . . . and Madara could still not find him.

Until a loud presence disturbed his senses and gathered power in what seemed to lean to an attack, and Madara rolled and roared to face the new presence and strength, infuriated at the interruption.

* * *

Tobirama jolted to his feet, eyes widening, flinging his senses out wide. The mournful, inhuman, _loud_ cry echoed even deep inside where his study was tucked alongside the library.

He felt . . . uneasy.

Tobirama left his study, passing quickly through the shiro and snagging one of the patrol guards as he reached the main room. “What’s going on?” he asked, still trying to gauge the degree of concern he should have, but his brother’s magic was everywhere and it was dampening everything else to his senses as the forest surged in answer.

Tobirama could match his eldest brother for power, but only when he was in his mother’s domain, and in the Senju lands here they were far from the water. Hashirama’s strength was everywhere, gifted by his own mother and her more mundane cousins filling the forests.

There was some other kind of magic present, and a disturbance more than simply sound shivered through the air, but Tobirama couldn’t read it beyond Hashirama’s bludgeoning strength.

“There’s- There’s a dragon! Hashirama-sama went out to face it!”

The answer didn’t come from the guard Tobirama had collared, but a young messenger not far away, pale with alarm.

Tobirama stiffened, breath catching. It was surely not- But his mind filled with sleek black scales and soft, fathomless eyes, the gentle touch of his lover - or the slimmer, more delicate frame of-

Tobirama hurried for the main gates, trying even more fiercely to find what was going on, what kind of power was gathered there.

He at least could pinpoint _where_, and headed straight for his brother.

And found him _on fire_, flung backwards across the ground and beginning to flail, and-

Tobirama’s breath caught as Madara bared his long fangs, sparks spiralling up from his throat on a wave of pure heat. _Madara._ What could have-

Tobirama called up water and doused his brother, putting out the flames before calling it back to himself, his power twining around his limbs protectively. Tobirama ignored his brother - he was clearly fine, the scorching of his clothes aside - and strode towards Madara.

He huffed loudly, breathing a thin line of flames, irritated and pressed. Hashirama called a warning, voice high with distress, and Tobirama flicked his fingers dismissively, needing to focus on his lover. He angled easily around the flame and stopped walking only when he reached Madara’s muzzle.

“Excuse you.” Tobirama said warningly, frowning. Madara bared his fangs again, with a low grumbling noise, tilting his head, ears flicking. “_Madara!_ Come now.” Tobirama’s eyes narrowed as he met Madara’s gaze firmly.

Madara gave a tiny, thin croon, head dipping, then stretched out his neck tentatively, nuzzling Tobirama’s stomach in a hopeful sort of way. He shifted and wound his neck around Tobirama snugly, coaxingly sweet as he wailed softly.

Tobirama sighed and scritched behind one ear, rubbing over Madara’s scales and gently pressing his fingertips in against the tiny, almost soft scales around the base of his ears, his eyes, following the curve at the corner of his mouth. Madara crooned in pleasure, hugging Tobirama even closer with the powerful curve of his neck.

He still didn’t _speak_, or shift form - not that he necessarily needed to around Tobirama, of course not, but with Hashirama here. . . - and he . . . _felt_ strange to Tobirama’s senses. And there was the fire, both that sent lashing at Hashirama and that searing carelessly into the trees.

Madara breathed flames when he was tetchy often, true, but not like this.

Tobirama rubbed his hand through the thick, wild fur of Madara’s crest - so soft, even as it tangled around his fingers; only more restrained than his mane in human shape because of its lesser mass, Tobirama thought - then gripped a handful of it firmly. He gave it a sharp tug to get Madara’s attention. “What is _wrong_ with you?” he asked, concern lapping at his mind.

Madara could be remarkably reticent - at least in words spoken - and impulsively emotional, but this was . . . all wrong.

Madara squirmed, shifting his feet and tucking himself inwards firmly even as he leaned into Tobirama with a keen. He rubbed his cheek against Tobirama’s chest, voicing a piteous sound, and Tobirama stroked his crest, wrapping his free arm around Madara’s neck, humming softly. Madara began to purr, a little of the tension in his frame bleeding away.

Tobirama smiled at that. He was still _concerned_, but Madara was more at ease, happy. It was reassuring. He kissed Madara’s brow, nuzzling into the fur of his crest. “Honestly, Madara-” he broke off as Madara reached up to catch his hip with one talon, pulling him in closer.

“What has gotten into you?” Tobirama asked even as he let his weight shift to rest against his lover, sliding down as Madara continued to tug insistently. Madara wound possessively around him, all the way down to his tail, head coming to rest in Tobirama’s lap. Madara still didn’t answer, only nestled closer and continued to purr, ignoring the threat Hashirama made in favour of getting as _close_ to Tobirama as he could possibly manage in this state and without shredding Tobirama’s clothes.

At least, Tobirama thought dryly, he had retained that much sense, whatever had stolen the rest of it from him.

“_Tobirama?_”

Tobirama lifted his head to look at his brother, seeing Hashirama slightly slumped and simply . . . staring at them. He stroked behind Madara’s nearer horn and hugged his lover’s head closer to himself, a tremor of nerves running down his spine. Hashirama looked . . . baffled, distressed.

Madara rubbed his head against Tobirama’s chest a little more firmly, the sweeping line of one horn sliding along his collarbone. A light touch, not offering so much as a scrape or bump. Tobirama absently manoeuvred around it, trailing a caress down his jaw and neck.

“Your- _Madara-san_, he’s-” Hashirama gestured, and the trees around them creaked and loomed, the air rich and choking with his magic.

Tobirama tensed, gathering his power in his veins, and felt Madara stir, growing hotter against him. Madara raised his head and Tobirama caught hold of him, drawing it back down with a gentle stroke and a chiding noise.

“Your _lover_ is a _dragon_?” Hashirama half-wailed.

Tobirama’s shoulders ached with tension. “I did tell you. Madara is a creature of fire.” he reminded firmly.

“You didn’t say _dragon_!” Hashirama countered immediately.

“I didn’t know I _had to_.” Tobirama snapped. What was more a creature of fire than a dragon? And beside that fact - there _were_ others, even if he felt it shouldn’t have been difficult to guess which Madara was; he _had_ chosen not to disclose the fact directly - there was no need for him to have said directly. “Touka didn’t report the bloodline of her last partner, nor indeed of her current one. Do you know what he is?”

“That’s different!” Hashirama said, eyes narrowing. The forest rustled.

“How so? Because it’s Touka and not me?” Tobirama asked sharply.

Madara growled, flicking an ear.

“Because he’s a dragon.” Hashirama spat.

Tobirama’s jaw tightened. “I thought you were to choose _not_ to continue the war our father drove onwards.” he said thinly. “You had even spoken of peace.”

“Peace, perhaps, but-” Hashirama slumped, and while the trees loomed, some of the oppressive feeling of his brother’s strength ebbed. “I didn’t know. How can you _trust_ him? How can you be safe with him?”

Tobirama caressed Madara’s brow and down along his jaw. Madara tilted his head further, inviting Tobirama’s hand beneath his jaw and against his throat. Tobirama arched an eyebrow as his brother as he stroked Madara’s neck.

“I _am_ safe with him, as you can see . . . even when he’s not himself and no one else might be.” Tobirama said stiffly, lightly rubbing Madara’s throat, feeling the thick, yet vulnerable line of his trachea under the protective layer of scales, along with the pulse of his blood and magic. “Will you leave me to see to him?”

Hashirama frowned. “Tobirama, he’s-”

“He’s the same creature you have shared tea with, and seen me off to visit for more than a year.” Tobirama said flatly. Not that he had waited for Hashirama’s permission - or knowledge - to go to Madara, his brother had been unaware that he even _knew_ Madara for quite some time. “He is _my lover_ and my beloved and,” Tobirama paused for half a breath, “he needs me right now.”

Hashirama looked displeased and frankly Tobirama couldn’t care less. “We’ll speak about this.” he said as he took a step back.

“If you say so, Anija.” Tobirama returned coolly, resting his jaw against one of Madara’s horns. He left unspoken the reminder that Hashirama might be his Anija and his Clan Head but he could no more refuse Tobirama’s choice of partner than he could restrain the tides. “Not now.”

“Not now.” Hashirama agreed, and moved away. “You. . . You’re sure you’re safe?” he asked, his voice softer.

Tobirama nestled his face against Madara’s crest. “I am in no more danger with Madara than could possibly find me in my own room, Anija, I promise you. No matter what.”

Hashirama took a breath, then nodded and left.

Tobirama hummed, stroking Madara’s neck and over his broad, solid shoulder, shifting a little to feel the curl of his strong tail wound about Tobirama’s legs. “I do wish I knew what had happened to you, though, my love.” he said softly after a time, brushing his lips over Madara’s upraised muzzle. He could feel the residue of foreign magic wrapped around Madara - not Hashirama’s; it felt like dragon magic - but nothing more about it. “And that you’ll be all right.”

Madara whined, deep in his throat, and pressed the tip of his muzzle to Tobirama’s cheek, huffing out a soft, warm breath. Tobirama smiled and kissed him again, scales warm and smooth beneath his lips.

Madara nuzzled his throat, scales hard against the tender skin. “I . . . needed you.” he said, and Tobirama’s breath caught.

“Madara! Love!” Tobirama buried his fingers in Madara’s crest, relieved. The words registered properly. “I’m here.” he assured softly, rubbing his fingers deep into the thick fur of Madara’s crest.

“Tobi-mate.” Madara crooned, his whole body shifting around Tobirama, cuddling him closer still.

Tobirama’s lips curled, though Madara was clearly still not all there yet. He was improving, and the foreign magic was fading. “Always, my love.” he soothed, pleased as ever by Madara’s possessive devotion.

**Author's Note:**

> . . .I may have entirely too much backstory for this one. Again. >.>
> 
> Butsuma sired four sons with four different mothers - one in each element. One wonders if he intended from the beginning to collect a set of them or just sidetracked that way after the first two. . .
> 
> [GlitteryStuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitteryStuff/pseuds/GlitteryStuff) drew _absolutely adorable_ [cuddling fanart of Madara and Tobirama](https://glitterynutstuff.tumblr.com/post/187868686209/i-do-know-that-tobi-did-not-wear-socks-i) for this!
> 
> Come say hello on [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/Kalira) or [Dreamwidth](https://kalira.dreamwidth.org)!


End file.
